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An' frae the weir he did back hap,
An' turn'd to us his fud;
An' gard the hale-ware oʻus trow
That he was gane clean wod.
Until the fin o' NAUPLIUS,
Mair useless na' himsel,
His jouckry-pauckry finding out,
To weir did him compel.
Lat him than now tak will an' wile,
Saxa moves gemitu, Laertiada eque precaris,
An'now these darts that weerded were
To tak the town o' Troy,
To get meat for his gabb, he man
Against the birds employ.
Yet he's alive, altho to gang
Wi' him he was fu’laith;
If PALAMEDE had been fae wife,
He had been free frae skaith:
For he'd been livin ti’ this day,
An' slept in a hale skin,
An' gotten fair play for his life,
An’stan'd he had nae been.
Debita Trojanis exercet spicula fatis.
Ille tamen 'vivit, quia non comitavit Ulyssem.
Mallet et infelix Palamedes esse relictus,
Viveret; aut certe letum fine crimine haberet.
That goud in goupens he had got,
The army to betray,
An' wi' mischief he was fae gnib,
To get his ill intent,
He howk'd the goud which he himsel
Had yerded in his tent.
Quem, male convicti nimium memor iste furoris, Prodere rem Danaam finxit: fictumque probavit Crimen. et oftendit, quod jam praefoderat, aurum